


it's not so bad

by ph0t0graph



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (but whatever), (or much angst), (theres not really much fluff), Angst, Break Up, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, M/M, Song Lyrics, True Love, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, and, annoying teenage girls, dido - thank you, eminem - stan, gross bus stops, inspired by a song, it hits him hard man, its really short sorry, louis designs vans, of course, read the notes, sad and lonely louis, zayn and louis work together, zayns really nice to louis bless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:44:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2043090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ph0t0graph/pseuds/ph0t0graph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry didn’t mean to run away from his feelings. Louis didn’t want him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not so bad

**Author's Note:**

> lemme say some things first:  
> -i thought of this really late at night and i wrote it up then and there  
> -so theres probably loads of spelling and grammar errors sorry  
> -song lyrics are from dido - thank you, as is the title
> 
> this was mainly inspired by stan by eminem but i continued the song (dido - thank you) because otherwise it would've been really short and it fit in well so

_  
my tea’s gone cold  
i’m wondering why  
i got out of  
bed at all  
_  
The cold plastic bar stool Louis was sat upon was too hard and too crappy to sit on this early in the morning and drink mug after mug of cold tea. Maybe Louis hated them because they make a vexatious squeak every time you move your hips merely an inch. Or maybe Louis hated them because Harry chose them.

Nothing seemed to matter to Louis anymore, not even the dull ache swallowing his body whole from the copious amounts of alcohol from the previous night. He tells himself the same thing every evening - _it’s not because of him, it’s my choice_ \- bullshit. Everything’s numb; it feels like the earth has stopped spinning and good god, if it was the end of the world Louis would walk straight into the war-zone face first without even having a second thought about it.

The emotionless boy continued to absent-mindedly stir his coco-pops around in the milk, staring at nothing in particular and not really focusing on anything - except him.

He abruptly dropped his spoon into the bowl, subconsciously rolled his eyes at himself and forced himself out of the shitty bar stool and the shitty kitchen that just screamed _Harry_ and trudged his way up to his bedroom to at least attempt to make himself look half decent, because he’s _fine_. Everythings fine.

_  
the morning rain clouds  
up my window  
and i can’t see at all  
and even if i could  
it’ll all be grey  
_  
He knows he needs to shower, he _really_ needs to shower, but who has he got to impress? So instead he heads directly towards the floor-length curtains and hauls them open, revealing the common British drizzle littered over the distance and it’s just so hilariously spiteful that the weather represents his mental state more than any words could ever come close to. Louis does appreciate it, really, he does. I mean it’s better to feel (mentally and physically) like a pile of wank whilst the weather is absolutely miserable compared to when everythings rainbows and lollipops and Louis wants to murder everything in his plain sight.

Silence seems to stretch over hours and hours and theres a tiny bit of hope left in the lonely boy that he’ll hear the front door open and keys being slung onto the kitchen counter and everything will be back to normal, back to the way it used to be, and that makes his stomach churn and knot because he’s so naive and foolish and he can’t seem to grasp that life’s not a Disney movie.

_  
but your picture on my wall  
it reminds me that  
it’s not so bad  
it’s not so bad  
_  
His aqua blue eyes flicker up to the corkboard above the set of drawers and a combination of guilt and longing and fucking _love_ washes over him like the bitter air does early on a winters morning. There’s endless polaroids and printed pictures tacked onto the board of treasured memories that Louis can’t help but to smile at. He continues to vow to himself that _things will eventually get better, this isn’t the end_ and a wave of relief seems to flow effortlessly through his veins. There’s not one single cell in his body that will ever let go of him and strangely enough, he’s okay with that.

Louis knows they need to talk. Harry knows they need to talk. Both of them know that they need to work this out together.

_  
i drank too much last night  
got bills to pay  
my head just feels  
in pain  
_  
Every feeling of hope and promise that was etched into his mind and into his heart swiftly vanished as the echo of Harry’s words rippled through his blood,  
“I’m sorry, Lou”  
There’s many untold accounts of the multiple times Louis’ drunken fingers manage to stumble across Harry’s contact and type out endless messages, varying from lustful to lonely, forgiving to furious.

****  
To Harry: “I need you xxxxxx”  
To Harry: “You left me for dead, you’re such a fucking coward and I hate you !”  
To Harry: “When are you coming home? :( x”  
  
Not one single message manages to be delivered because Louis’ fingers tremble and it feels like both fear and love is drowning him. There’s something in the back of his mind telling him _it’s for the best_.

It’s a never-ending circle.

_  
i missed the bus and  
there’ll be hell today  
i’m late for work again  
_  
Louis could not give a single shit about work anymore. Like, yeah he needs the money to pay the bills but it just drags _on and on_ and it’s just the same thing over and over again. Designing shoes, getting turned down and Zayn’s designs being chosen instead. Louis doesn’t mind either way, he still gets paid so it’s whatever.

He glances at his phone, 7:47. The bus comes at 7:50 and it’s at least a 10 minute walk from his flat to the bus stop. But still, he slips on his shoes and decides to catch the next one.

For once he decides to actually sit down in the grungy bus shelter because he’s not up for standing for another 20 minutes until the bus comes. So he plugs his earphones into his phone and he starts playing his morning playlist full blast.

Louis just minds his own business as the vibrations of the music travel through his ears, until a couple of loathsome looking teenage girls decide to sit next to him, giggling and obnoxiously chewing gum so loud, Louis can hear it through the Coldplay song he’s listening to. After about 5 minutes of listening to their annoying tones, he (not so subtly) slides across to a seat further away and just prays that the bus will turn up soon.

And it does.

__  
and even if i’m there  
they’ll all imply that  
i might not last the day  
Louis eventually turns up at the office, only an hour late (it would’ve only been 45 minutes but _if you’re already late you might as well grab a coffee from costa_ Louis always says).

“Afternoon, Louis” Zayn greets him, spinning around in his office chair to face him with papers in his hand, riddled with cartoon designs. It’s not unusual for Louis to be late anymore, everyone got used to it after the first week.

“I think you’ll find it’s still the morning, Zayn” Louis retorts, heading to his desk with his coffee in his hand. Zayn just chuckles lightly and returns to his computer.

Louis tries to at least design _something_ , but there’s just so many thoughts in his head at once that he’s unable to do anything. He resorts to tapping his pencil against the desk, building up a beat and eventually his foot’s tapping and he’s beatboxing in the background.

“Louis”

He snaps back to reality, dropping his pencil.

“Hm?”

“You’re not gonna do anything while you’re here are you?” Louis looks down sheepishly.

“Zayn, I’m -”

“Just go home Lou, relax, do whatever. You won’t miss out on much not being here. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you were sick. Do it for me, babe?” Zayn entreated. Louis didn’t know if he wanted to pay him or kiss him.

“Thankyou, Zayn.” Louis smiled as he started packing his stuff away.

_  
and then you call me and  
it’s not so bad  
it’s not so bad  
_  
Louis unlocks his front door and immediately kicks off his shoes and flops down onto the couch, breathing in a sigh of relief. His phone starts ringing in his pocket and he assumes it’s just Zayn telling him he’s left something in the office, but he checks anyway. It’s the last person he thought of.

It takes him what feels like forever to decide whether to answer or ignore the call. Luckily, he grows the balls the answer his call before it cuts off.

“Harry?” Louis breathes, confused. On the other end of the line, all he could hear was sniffles and heavy breathing.

“I can’t do this, Lou” Harry blubbers.

“Wha-”

“These two weeks have been awful and cruel and straight up _terrifying_ , I can’t even begin to explain how fucking angry I am with myself for just leaving you without a good reason, without any reason” He inhales deeply.

“I’m a coward, Louis. We both know it”

“Harry-”

“No, Lou, I thought you were gonna leave me and I couldn’t let that happen, I just couldn’t. I know it’s dumb for me to call you like this but I’ve been a mess and I needed to hear your voice and I needed to talk to you and I needed-”

“Harry calm down” Louis interrupted sharply. He heard Harry take deep breaths through the phone.

“I love you” He blurted out. Louis froze.

“I love you too” Louis admitted almost too fast. “Come home?” He asked hesitantly.

There was sniffle and a mumbled “yeah” through the phone.

“Are you crying again, love?” Louis consoled.

“M’fine, I’m coming home, Lou”

It’s not so bad.


End file.
